Dangerous Games
by Underscore1990
Summary: Harry Potter is an Auror. Yet in this post-Voldemort word, crime still runs rampant and Harry Potter follows a trail of murder to a tournament that will have significant bearing on this world. Will Harry succeed or will he fall victim to this new world?
1. Chapter 1

**Dangerous Games**

_Disclaimer: I in no way own Harry Potter, unless we are in my dreams, in which case I would be a Billionaire with total control over the world and... anyway getting back here's the story. _

_**Chapter 1 ~ The Corpse.**_

Refuse and litter lay piled on the sides. The alley way stank with the odour of death and decay, the semi darkness continued to inhabit every corner of the street to which it led. Knockturn alley, a squalid mess of old uninhabited shops, and shady businesses, the premier hotspot for all magical criminals in London. An unspoken truce reigned between Auror and Criminal, a safe haven in exchange for an anonymous tip off about various high collar dark activity.

In the centre of the alley lay a man, seemingly asleep, on his face a scene of pure terror, the frozen face the dull eyes, the frothing mouth, the only signs that the man was dead.

Around it the rats had gathered first their red eyes blazing, a signal to the hoards of scum that inhabited Knockturn alley. On their hind legs they stood, a silent vigil, protecting their prize. Their primitive intelligence knew that the prize would be lost yet they stood in hope in a hopeless world.

* * *

Four officially dressed people approached a gathered crowd. The general din of the situation was unlike the quite foreboding and rather eerie nature of the alley. The crowd was a mix of the worst of society. The dregs and the refuse of the magical population. Mixed in the general din, the Auror's heard hags arguing over the ownership of fingers and various other body parts.

"Aurors!" Screamed an ugly hag frothing at the mouth.

The Auror's smiled at the crowd, smiles promising pain and suffering, the crowd began hissing and screaming, vulgarities spewed from every mouth, claims of ownership rang out, angry taunts broke their banks. There was no love lost between the the dark vermin that inhabited the alley the dark street and the upholder's of the law. A long and bitter hatred had seperated the two groups for centuries.

Yet it was the the rats that wandered through the refuse of the street that disgusted these Aurors, the crowd parted at their approach, the rats hissed and spat at them. The rats were protecting their prize, something they would struggle with the humans, their equals in this squalid scum strewn street..

A black haired Auror raised a stick, from it came a series of explosions, both light and sound. The rats and the crowds flew like headless horses in every direction, fleeing from the men who were clearly dangerous. Even the roosting owls, dotted here and there waiting for their masters flew away with ruffled feathers, such was the threat of the emerald eyed man.

"Harry that wasn't necessary, there could have been witnesses in that crowd," admonished Justin his face tinged green at the sight of the body dotted with bite marks, the arms and legs punctured with tiny holes, the body looked drained of blood. Rigour Mortis had set in, already the stench of rotting flesh had filled the air. The smell overwhelmed the Auror's for a few minutes.

A red haired Auror was the first to recover, "Lets begin."

"Standard Procedures," said Harry, conjuring a thick yellow rope and allowing it to curl like a snake around the area housing the body. It acted as a barrier sealing the magic inside from dispersing. The rope was rough and dangerous, standard operations of the Auror corps.

They began circling the area around the body, looking for clues and unusual signs. They began uttering spells as they went.

"Revealio," they said, interspersed with cries of "Prior Incantum," looking for magical residue. They combed with such precision that a surgeon's scalpel would be hard pressed to match. Moving in an organised grid pattern they searched first the shop fronts, then moved towards the street. In groups of two they approached from either end, frightening the odd passer-by with stares and threats of arrest.

"Harry, something serious was happening here," said the red haired man. He pointed to a formerly dark and dusty corner, which started blazing brilliantly at his uttered curse. Flashes of blue, bursts of brown, dashes of red, patches of yellow, every colour under the sun burnt brightly in the wand's path.

"Fuck!" Harry exclaimed. He then proceeded to remove his glasses before staring at the sight again and casting, "Sonorus."

"TEAM FALL IN!" his voice boomed in the oppressive silence. "INTENSE MAGICAL ACTIVITY IN QUADRANT B. QUITEUS"

"Why do you need to use those muggle terms Harry?" Asked the fourth member of the group, Tracey Davies. Her question faded into silence as she witnessed the bright flashes of light that had entranced Percy. She cringed as she saw flashes of the sickly green that sped through her like ghostly beams.

"Murder then," decided Justin his face clenched in a false sense of calm.

"Seems like it. What have you got from the body Tracey?" asked Harry.

"Nothing, the bite marks are from the rats, and other than the standard ownership curses placed on body parts there's nothing else." She smirked grimly.

"Cause of death is the Avada then?" Harry questioned.

"That seems most likely, otherwise its a broken unbreakable vow," said Tracey. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, as she watched the headache inducing display, "Why haven't we picked up on this? The concentration of magic should of set off our detectors."

"Can't be Fidelus or repulsion charms," Justin thought aloud. His face shook in irritation, another mystery for the lab teams to solve he thought.

"Why not?" asked Percy to the three Aurors. He was ignored by the other three, who were in different stages of thought. No reason was offered, silence met his question with disdain and he huffed in anger.

"Take the body, lets go see if we can identify it and don't remove anything from it" said Harry who was pondering Tracey's question.

It had bugged him no end, there was no simple solution, nothing since the fall of Voldemort had been so intense. This case was another murder among a hundred. The crime wave had no claimant, no new wannabe dark lord. Who would be blamed, the minister would have to take responsibility for this Harry told himself, after all it was he who was curtailing the powers of the Aurors.

They returned to the body, all their faces plastered with grim determination. They felt the magic slowly seeping out from the containment and dispersing into the air. Not since the fall of Voldemort, had such magic been thrown around so casually. 'Who?' was the question on everyone's lips.

* * *

A stone table lay at the centre of a a sterile white room. On top of the table perched a body, covered with a white sheet. White coated man and women wandered around, from upheld wands, multi coloured lights flashed. In the corner sat Harry disinterestedly his head bowed, how had the man died?

"Sir." A white coat approached Harry, taking a nervous glance at his colleagues then back at Harry at Harry's nod he continued, "We've found his wand."

"Any identification?" Harry asked in reply his face set in grim determination.

"Take a look." The man held up two wands, without waiting, he uttered, "Priori Incantum."

From the wand sprang a ghostly flash a green, a harbinger of doom. It lanced around the room, damaging nothing yet the wrongness could be felt, the powers it had once seen could be felt, it was the signature curse of a long dead Dark Lord.

"Avada Kedavra," whispered Harry, his mind reeling that curse had faded out of use, it couldn't be only the few remaining dark wizards and the ministry knew the curse, how was it being used he thought to himself.

"Sir its unusual, there's no spectre of the victim," said the white coat, his face pale, the implications of the curse not lost on him.

Harry frowned, it couldn't be, not another rising Dark Lord he thought to himself, he needed support to finish, with that thought Harry brushed passed the White Coat as he ran through his boss's door, a new hunt was soon to be afoot.

"Potter! Have you read Weasley's report?" Boomed a rather large man glancing at Harry. His face matching a multitude of colours.

Seated on his large oak desk he held in his hands a folder, that had clearly seen better days or more accurately better seconds in its life. Around the man were a multitude of folders, a sense of neatness avoided him, and Harry could not but be slightly intimidated by the man in front of him.

"No sir. The body we found on a side street of Knockturn alley, had a wand, with an unusually cast U1," said Harry quickly. He was worried, the murder had shaken in his confidence and he wished to take responsibility for the investigation.

"The Avada?" the boss's face paled, "No, the small time thugs report all heavy dark activity, explain the situation Potter."

"Sir. We were attracted to an unusually large gathering of undesirables. They fled at our approach at in their stead left this body. The cause of death was determined to be by the U1, however others may be a possibility. The body was returned to base, after a search of the crime scene, a memory re creation will be presented to the archives for storage. The death is unusual, a wand was discovered on the body, the last curse was the Avada unusually though there was no spectre."

"What!" Screamed the boss, his hand swiping personal mementos of his desk, "How could something like this happen?" His temper flashed wildly, not on his watch he hoped, please don't be a dark lord he prayed. The ministry had collapsed last time, would it happen again? Had anything changes since the last time? He asked himself, he could do nothing but hope.

"Sir, Roger its unusual I'll grant you that if we had taken in the small timers we could have stopped the from getting this big," said Harry with placating gestures at his boss.

"You know as well as I do, the public_ don't want no war _minister Diggory won't let us take them on, he's convinced that the rival crime gangs will check each other," Roger replied, his face an ashen grey he had run this department since Shaklebolt had pursued a career in politics and now on his watch was society again going to decline into bedlam, he had to stop it.

"Sir, permission for undercover work?" asked Harry returning to formal protocol his face set in stone, hoping it passed for a neutral expression waiting for a reply.

"No, Percy Weasley's report says _that the Auror department is elitist and acts in a way that is not keeping with the minister's policies of curtailing Auror power. _I can't do anything until the minister calls a meeting."

"The report said what?" Harry asked thrown into a loop.

"It said Harry that _Aurors are inept and act in a superior manner that encourages criminal sympathies._ It goes on to say that we are _unkind and unhelpful_. Do you want hear more Harry?" He didn't wait as he continued his tirade, "It says that we should instead of _concentrating on first time offenders, we should concentrate on educating children and begin outreach programs with the general community at large._"

"The small time criminals are our major problem they exist to cause us trouble, How could we let them take control of their own territories, we need to fight back sir."

"I know but we have to wait for ministerial approval," the boss replied mockingly. There was no love lost between the minister and the head of the Auror head department.

"Off the books sir?" Harry asked again, he couldn't wouldn't let all his hard work be destroyed by corrupt and inept politicians. He had paid for it with the blood of his parents, his own death to end tyranny and now to return to it, No.

"Harry I can't do it," seeing the mutinous look that had appeared on Harry's face Roger hastely amended his speech, "My hands are tied, Harry if you proceed I will be forced to begin an investigation into your conduct and if it needs be, you will be sacked."

"That is your choice, Sir." Harry replied his anger being expressed clearly, and with a stiff nod to his superior, Harry left the building.

* * *

"Fire Whiskey," said Harry ordering a shot from a hunched back old man. Harry turned around at looked at the establishment. The Leaky Cauldron had seen better days, he remembered his first visit here with Hagrid, a time so far away when he was a wide eyed child an innocent child yet already marked by an evil untameable but to his own hand. He smiled at the nostalgia, and yet he grimaced, a constipated look to be sure, but there was no one to see.

The Leaky Cauldron had been abandoned, with the creation of new entrances across London into Diagon Alley, it had fallen into disrepair. The tables and windows were cracked. The chairs stood on three legs, dust formed a thick carpet, yet old Tom kept working day in day out, Harry came here often, to think, it was his home away from home.

"Here Harry," said Tom sliding a shot glass filled with smoking liquid inside.

Harry grunted in reply, "Thanks."

He watched tom wipe futilely at the table with a dirty rag, he had no customers yet he still worked he worked at his humble bar day and night, never changing his pattern, whether governments fell or rose, empires ground to dust, he would continue working until the end of time.

"Tom how's business?" Harry asked to make conversation.

"Same as a'ways, ne'er a custome' in sight."

"You need to move Tom, have you thought about buying the Hogshead, now that Aberforth has passed on." Harry asked inquiringly, Tom had been one of the few constants in his topsy turvy life and he cared for the old man.

"Harry," said Tom slowly, "I've been a lookin and I can't afford it, but I heard that there's an openin' at an establishment in Knockturn alley, Now don't give me tha' face, go have a loo' yourself, its the Bright Boar."

Harry sighed at Tom's words he had hoped the man would ask for some money, it wasn't an issue to him but the last thing Tom had was his pride and he could sympathise, "I'll take a look today Tom."

He tapped the third brick from the left on the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, stopping only to stare at the street that opened in front of him. The rumble tumble buildings stood haphazardly as hundreds of people went about their business, Harry walked down the cobbled street, which still bore signs of spell damage from a war torn past.

To his left and right, the industrious wizarding industry was at work building the traditional landmarks, Olivander's flourished again as the young again started school, yet the Auror clad in black, kept walking. He didn't smile at the passers-by, nor did he stop to greet his friends and acquaintances of which there were many. He walked past the Apothecary, the only remaining original structure of the war, a symbol to the masses the dominance of its contribution to the world of magic.

Yet it was at the cross roads that Harry stopped and looked, he had avoided remembering the fights that broke out across the street, yet as he stared at the dilapidated sign, he couldn't help but remember the spell fire that struck the sign, a curse from his own wand, driving the dregs of society back to their hidey holes in the nooks and crannies of Knockturn alley.

"Out of sight, Out of mind." He whispered disdainfully to himself, as he stepped into the street known for its high rate of shady dealings and more infamously as the territory of the Toroids.

* * *

With his hood covering his face, Harry disappeared into the throngs of Knockturn, he moved with well practised ease, hours of practise showed, with each confident step, his cloak's clasp shone with the brilliance that only wealth could show. No one dared approach him as he moved, not the two bit whores of Knockturn, nor the shady pedlars peddling their questionable ware. The well worn sneer decorated his lower face as he moved through the crowd until he came upon another dingy building with grime coated windows, and grease covered walls.

With a cursory glance around him, he took a step into the disgusting building, The Bright Boar. The pub dreary inside as it was outside. Here and there in the shadows sat hooded men, in groups of two, discussing business, the evils of society Harry thought. Why he asked himself couldn't the Auror's shut down this place, the breeding ground of scum and the ills of society, at least Tom was on his side.

"You in the doorway, ordering anything?" Grunted the barkeep, his sweaty hands constantly drying themselves on his greasy apron.

"Fire Whiskey." Paused Harry before continuing, "if you have it."

Harry's eyes never left the face of the bar keep. An old man, his head had not a single strand of hair, his face over grown with white grey stubble, nothing out of the ordinary. Harry sighed and waited as

the man opened his mouth.

"None of that here, if you want it go down to some of the exclusive pubs." The old man grunted, his responses seemed to be limited.

"What do you have?" Asked Harry patiently, his hand twitching toward his holstered wand.

"Moonshine and Hags. What will it be?" the old man countered, his face breaking out in a toothless grin before it faded at the sight of Harry's furious stare.

"Moonshine," Harry answered, his face still masked by the fury of the perversions of this old bar keep.

The old man nodded, as he allowed a watery liquid to flow into a dirty cup, and passed it to Harry. To Harry's surprise the man directed him to a seat behind two conversing men. Deep in their conversations they did not hear Harry approach.

"I say the Auror's are going to be in a right tizzy," said the first hooded man.

"The ministry won't do anything its on toroid territory," the second replied taking a long draught of his drink.

Harry could not but help listen in on the conversation, and with a short incantation he began listening in. As he sat in his dark corner, he knew he had found a lead, he only needed to wait and listen.

"You sure 'bout that, Potter's on the case and you know how he is." The first man continued loudly, he had been inebriated by the rather strong moonshine.

"Potter?" asked the second man, "Don't worry 'bout him, he ain't got no evidence, I don't think he even knows what's goin' on besides the ministry ain't investigatin."

Harry smiled briefly, his investigation was going to take a surprising turn. He waited to hear more of the hushed conversation.

"That's good then, so when's the next competition going to be held?" asked the first man, his nerves seemed calmed by the second man's words or by the moonshine, it would be forever unknown which.

"In a while, the ministry need ta clear out first, you got the por'key?" asked the seond man, he too was extremely drunk.

"Yeh," slurred the first man as his head dropped on to the table and began snoring.

"Son of a bitch!" The second man shouted as tried to rouse the extremely drunk first man before allowing the man to sleep, "fine then sleep. Barkeep where are your whores?"

"Second room to the left," came the reply and to Harry's disgust the second man, dressed in ripped black robes walked toward the said room. He was missing an arm, his lower face heavily scared, Harry was repulsed by the man's affliction and by his actions.

Harry watched the man enter the room, and as the door closed, Harry muttered, "Muffilato." The anti-eavesdropping curse would keep all eavesdroppers out of his future conversation.

"Eneverate," Harry whispered his wand hidden by his cloak. The man in front of him woke slowly and disoriented. Harry had been counting on this fact.

"Where am I?" asked the man, his hood had fallen off, and his brown teeth and bold head could be seen clearly in the stale light.

"We're late where's the portkey?" Harry asked faking urgency.

"What por'key?" returned the man, his speech slurred from his drunkeness.

"To the competition my good man, hand it over, I'll get us there, your in no fit state to portkey alone." Harry said quickly it was basic Auror training, strike quickly, keep your enemies stumped.

Without much ado, the man opened his pocket and pulled out an embossed card on it five words, _"An Invitation to the Competition." _

Harry smiled ferally, his plans were progressing nicely, this piece of luck he thought to himself was the only thing needed so as to find the murderer or so he thought. He looked at the man who was beginning to realise who he had handed the portkey too.

The man's face was comical, going from shades of green to red, then to purple, anger was clearly evident, unfortunately for him not a peep left his mouth as a red bolt of light slammed into his stomach, he lay on the ground stunned. Standard Auror practice, silent stunners were effective against all types of criminals, then again Harry reflected only silent curses would of brought down legimancy trained Death Eaters.

"Obliviate," whispered Harry and watched without remorse as the man forgot the last five minutes of his life. With that done, Harry tossed a single gold galleon to the Barkeep and stepped into the half light that was Knockturn alley.

* * *

"Harry, How are you, the kids , Ginny?" asked Neville, his boyish face lit up with a smile.

"I'm fine Nev, How are you?" Harry asked to get the pleasantries out of the way, his eyes wondering around at the plants that surrounded them in the greenhouse. Greenhouse 3 to be specific he thought to himself with a wry smile, the place where the most dangerous plants were kept. He grimaced slightly at the sight of growing mandrakes and shuddered watching the Devils Snare curling around Neville's leg.

"Not too bad Harry, Not too bad, the mandrakes seem to like dragon blood and Threstral dung fertiliser, they're awfully loud as they come out." Neville's face broke into a smile at the glazed look that had taken over Harry's face, "Sorry Harry, you know I love my plants."

"Nev, if you talked to Hannah as much as you did to your plants, she would take you back." Jested Harry, even his bad mood could be broken by Neville's cheeriness.

"True Harry, and now what brings you to Hogwarts?" asked Neville, who was still tending to his Venomous Tentacula, which was wrestling with an overly frisky in Harry's opinion Devil's Snare.

"Listen I've got to go undercover for a few days, can you cover for me for a few days?" Harry asked quietly with a nervous glance over his shoulder. Satisfied there as no one around he turned back, "No one expect me and the Roger know about this mission, the cover story will be that I'm investigating for you claims about a magical plant that grows in the highlands of Scotland as a special favour to you."

"What about Ginny and the kids Harry? Ginny would have gone ballistic if Molly Weasley's anything to go by." Neville queried his voice had sunk to a whisper.

"I've told Ginny the truth, the kids will have to believe the rumours for now," said Harry quietly matching Neville for seriousness.

"When do you leave?" asked Neville caving in to Harry's demand, he knew that he owed Harry a few favours, and regardless he thought to himself he would do it for Harry his good friend.

"Today," replied Harry, "I'll see you in a few days."

As Harry walked out of the Green house Neville tracked him until he reached Hogwart's gates, "Take care of yourself Harry. We need a hero in this world."

Standing outside the gates of Hogwarts castle, Harry took one last glance at it. The tall spires still stood in all their splendour, the gothic designs, the gargoyles that stood upon ledges still sat proudly facing the winds of time without a single backward step. Harry smiled at his first real home, and as he watched an Owl flit over the horizon, he turned his back toward the castle and activated the portkey.

**A/N:**

This hasn't been betaed or edited a first draft if you will. Its going to be a short story (not a one shot) that will focus on the period between Harry becoming an Auror and the epilogue.

Please Review.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2 ~ The Game.**_

"Name?" a rough feminine voice called from behind a desk.

Harry had felt a large tug in his naval that he associated with the pull of a portkey. He stood in front of a bored looking lady. Disoriented he looked around, the room he sat in reminded him of a common muggle office block. There was the receptionist's desk, a door leading into a important person's office, the dreary painting that adorned office walls, the green plastic plants. It was no surprise to anyone that Harry closed his eyes for a few seconds, before opening them to look at his surroundings again. He looked explicitly for Wizarding icons.

"Name sir?" The bored receptionist continued.

"Where am I?" asked Harry his mind still spinning from where the portkey had taken him.

"Your at the location for an official game, sir, now what is your name sir, so I can enter it in the registrations book?" she asked again, in a rather bored tone, her demeanour was uninterested in the entire affair, why would she be interested, those who passed through the doorway where playing with their lives and she had no reason to form any attachment.

Harry tried smiling, yet the lady did not reciprocate, and Harry looked at her strangely waiting for her to break her silence.

"Sir for the last time what is your name?" she asked exasperated.

"John Smith." Harry replied he with an air of arrogance, the Auror training had kicked in again, he knew that Harry Potter was not welcome to whatever was beyond the closed doors.

"Mr Smith, Here are your game robes, please ensure that your hood covers your face at all times and that you do not reveal your identity to any patrons," said the lady handing Harry a set of robes, 'I am honour bound not to reveal any names and I can't reveal any faces," she turned to face Harry with a wry smile, her eyes wondered aimlessly, she was blind.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, choking over his words, a great pain crossed his heart, and vowed to help this lady.

"Don't be please put on those robes and step through that door," the lady replied simply, with a slight gesture at the doorway she guided Harry through.

Beyond the doorway Harry saw the magical world. Room expansion spells and runes had been placed, and beyond the doorway stood an arena. With his hood covering his face, he felt a sticking charm take effect, only he could remove the hood, he stepped in to the arena. Around him stood giant stands, filled with row upon row of seats. He looked at the rock hard ground, and at the strange holding pen constructions in the centre of the ground. Harry walked around toward an exit and wandered up through the stairs to take a seat in one of the viewing stands. He wanted to see what this game was.

He waited as the stands slowly began to fill with hooded people, he couldn't believe that many people attended this criminal event. Harry stared in trepidation, surely if so many attended such an event then the ministry would have been compromised, by many of its employees. He knew that trouble was brewing as more and more people entered the concealed room. An hour later every single seat was packed and yet not a sound left the throats of anyone who sat in that room. A large crowd had formed and not a single peep could be heard. Harry twitched nervously as he waited, the tension in the air was heavy and any moment it could break maybe in a hostile manner.

A man stepped into the the lone box. He was dressed in blue compared to the throngs of black of the audience. He raised a wand to his throat, and after uttering a few words which Harry lip read as the voice changing charm, the man began to speak under the influence of the sonorus charm.

"Welcome one and all to the game. We have here the best of the best and today we'll see those who are skilled enough to gain the privileges that accompany victory in this tournament. The first match will start in twenty minutes and it will be between the 21st Toroid and the 35th Toroid."

The crowd burst out in cheers, Harry jerked in surprise at the noise, not to be noticeable he opened his mouth to cheer. At that thought he felt a voice changing charm fall on his larynx from the hood. Yet he continued cheering with the crowd and sat down to wait, noticing that the crowd had waited for the announcer to speak before speaking among themselves. It was strange to see hooded men and women converse with each other, no eyes watching each other, no mouths could be seen moving.

"First time here?" asked a man on Harry' right to Harry, his voice indistinguishable from the hundreds of others as Harry noted, the voice charms were obviously cast by one person.

"Yes," replied Harry slowly, yet his voice charm delivered it without emotion, a bland uninspiring voice that did not convey any emotion or thought.

"How did you get here? Steal and Invite?" The man questioned, Harry thought he was a man the body build seemed to suggest that.

"Took a Portkey." Harry replied again without emotion, yet his right hand had grasped his wand ready to fire on this man.

"Stolen then, don't worry, that's how most of us got here in the first place. Watch the first game that's a piece of advice I can give you, you'll have to learn the rules from it, before the game for all the newcomers," said the man quickly.

"Thank you." Harry replied as a large cheer erupted around the stands. Two groups of brown robed people had walked out on to the arena waving to the cheering crowd. Harry watched in anticipation as two red robed officials led five members of each group to what Harry had mistakenly thought to be an animal pen, it was a pen for humans.

The announcer began speaking again over the general din of the crowd, "Let us begin this match, Are you ready, GO!"

"Stupefy," came the shout and a red beam emanated from one of the two brown robed men in the centre.

The second man dived away from the curse before uttering his own, "Reducto!" The blasting curse missed the other man, and hit the reflective magical shielding in front of the stands. The curse reflected back tearing into the ground, dislodging giant clumps of dirt.

In response the first man returned fire balls, "Incendio! Incendio! Incendio!" he shouted with gusto, lodging three fireballs at his opponent. The other man ducked from two of the fireballs, but was struck by the third.

"Transfero Pestifer ,_"_ he called out and amazingly before Harry's eyes the man stood up again before beginning to fire more curses at his obviously more experienced opponent. Harry looked around at the pens, and to Harry's horror, one of the penned men was suffering the exact same injury that the man on the field had a few seconds ago.

"Oi!" Harry shouted to his neighbour, disturbing his blood lust, "What's the deal with the transfer spell?"

The man looked at Harry, his face showed great irritation but it was a credit to the man's temperament that he replied calmly and even all things considered nicely, "They are his lives, if anything happens to him, he can transfer the injury to one of his lives," the man paused enthralled by the game, "Well anything short of the killing curse," he finished.

"Oh," replied Harry watching the game, wondering what he had got himself into, "What do you win other than money and reputation?"

"Lives," came the reply.

Harry shuddered in disgust, this as the game he thought to himself, this vile and disgusting past time was what united the criminal underworld? Harry watched the rest of the game with a baleful eye. Each move was matched and counter matched by both opponents and many an injury were traded. The lives took the injuries on their bodies.

"What happens if the injuries become too many?" asked Harry.

"The life dies don't they." The reply came from behind him, "There ain't no fun without cold hearted murder you know," continued the voice.

Not bothering to turn around, as he knew the hoods would obscure all facial features, Harry shouted over the din of the crowd, "So this game ends when one of them dies?"

"No you dumb mudblood, it ends when one cannot fight any more, when his dead mentally insane or bound in ropes." The voice from behind replied.

With a nod of his head Harry returned to watching the game. The men continued to circle each other firing curses of different hues, the roar of the crowd had drowned out the spell names, and Harry watched the two players duck and weave each spell with natural ease. They were both tired and spell casting had fallen to one a second an extremely slow pace compared to the casting speeds they kept up minutes ago.

Harry watched with growing apprehension, as one of the competitors straightened their shoulders, their wand pointed at the heart of the other and from their mouth came two words, "Avada Kedavra."

The crowd seemed silenced as every competitor watched a sickly green light worm towards the other. That man seemed frozen in place, if his eyes could have been seen, they would've shown absolute terror. The killing curse was coming and it would be coming for them. The silence stretched out longer, an eternity to the victim.

Harry watched in revulsion as the curse hit the man, his eyes tracked the first signs of instant death that would occur, the blossoming fear on the face, the death stare, no, Harry looked again, the man hadn't died he stood up with a smile, his wand now pointed at the heart of the other, "Heart Attack," his voice whispered, now lost in the uproar of the crowd.

"How did he survive?" Harry screamed to his neighbour. It was lost in the general roof raising din of the crowd forcing him to shout even louder, "HOW DID HE SURVIVE?"

"It wasn't the real curse!" The reply came from the crowd on his right, still to busy celebrating the victory of the champion.

The celebrations began in earnest as copious amounts of alcohol and other restricted foodstuffs were being served by people walking up and down the alleys between the stands. Harry looked on in shock, surely he thought this was a serious breach of ministry law, he questioned his belief in the ministry as he had done years ago. How? He asked himself, How could so many people be involved in criminal activity and not be prosecuted.

As the revelry calmed down, Harry fell into conversation with another hooded and masked man, "Sir, How did that man survive the Avada?"

"It wasn't the Avada," came the reply, frustrating Harry as it was the same answer he had gotten before.

"Then what was it?" Harry asked, his frustration was only evident to him as the voice of the hood had no emotion.

"A Green light," said the other man.

"But I'm sure that the man whispered the words to the Death curse."

"Of course it was," the man replied, "Our Wands are cast with a special spell to make it fun you understand, it forces our wands at random times to emit a light in the same colour as the said spell, it makes the games more challenging." The man explained to Harry, he was shifting his head left and right looking for a way to get away from the newcomer.

"But But," spluttered Harry before gathering himself, "No magic can change the intent of a spell, its basic Charms, not even the Department of Mysteries could break that basic law."

"Its not cast at the spell, its on the wand and it forces the wand at random intervals to cast a light instead of the spell," seeing Harry's look of indignation, "look you can burn a wand with an Incendio, but you can't hit a spell with Incendio can you? No you can't." He finished quickly answering his own rhetorical question and he wondered off, leaving Harry with a lot on his mind.

Buying a beer from one of the sellers, Harry walked around hoping to pick up on what was going on around this place. Standing at the railing of the stands, he watched the cleaning crews pile body upon body, before vanishing them. With a sigh Harry turned around from the repulsive sight and began listening in through a sleight of hand and magic.

"I need some Unicorn's blood," said a man in the conversation.

"500 galleons for a vial," replied the hooded woman. She wore a robe of dark green, and from that Harry deuced that the robe colours meant something.

"200 galleons," the man dressed in black replied quickly. He was a short stocky man, built almost like Fudge Harry reasoned.

"Do not insult my intelligence," the green robed woman replied, "Ever since that Mudblood Granger runs the Magical Creatures department, Any sale or possession of bodily fluids results in a life time in Azkaban, that's the same as sentence as murder. 500 galleons is the fairest price I can offer you."

"250 Galleons and a non-face to face transfer, Granger and her lackeys won't hear of it," offered the man.

"400 Galleons at least, and don't forget the Aurors, they've been given special orders to track any bodily fluids." The woman replied without emotion.

"350 Galleons and I'll be willing to negotiate for more ingredients."

"Fine what other ingredients?" asked the lady. Harry stopped listening into the conversation at that point, he now had a very good tip off about possession of banned substances, yet no information of the next game.

He sighed again, he had hated criminals from the start but the murder of an innocent unicorn was too much. Unicorns as he smiled wryly to himself in his hood, were the most pure of creature, the blood of such a creature could only be used for dark rituals and potions, as Firenze the centaur had told him almost 15 years ago, it would allow a man to live a cursed existence. It was lost knowledge, these days Unicorn blood was used as the main ingredient of an incurable poison, a somewhat favourite of the Toroids to kill any of their turncoat members.

Without much ado other than a slight twitch of his wand and some intense mental spell casting, he started listening into another conversation, between a two men, one robed in black and another robed in silver. Maybe as Harry thought this would be his lucky break. He watched the silver man's walk and body actions, he looked like an official of this strange and morally evil game, he had the arrogance of leadership, yet without doubt Harry knew that this man was somehow a leader yet nothing more than a scrape goat. Someone to take the failings of this hidden society inside a hidden society.

"Sir, you have chosen to enter the toroid spiral, to be a part of this you must compete in the game." The silver man spoke with a serene voice, the spell cast on his tunic would have to be different to those cast on that of everyone else's tunic Harry thought.

"But.. But people are dying," replied the black cloaked man.

"What did you expect a criminal organisation run by one man and his servants?" sneered the silver man, his hood occupied his face yet the black man would swear that it felt like the other man was glaring down hard upon him.

"Frankly yes, are we not fighting the ministry?" asked the Black man.

"No," replied the man in silver, "We work together for mutual benefit do you not see that? The ministry restricts our sales and our revenues, so we do enter light skirmishes with them. That is all." The silver man seemed to speak with a divine authority.

"No, I joined so that we could avenge Voldemort, I want that to be our plan!" The black robed man shouted, causing more than a few robed heads to search him out. Harry felt a familiar yet rarely felt feeling of hate and bile building up inside of him, and he could not but wait to curse this man to oblivion.

"Keep your voice down," said the Silver robed man, "Our aims are not the same as You-Know-Who, you must see that, we are a group of individuals, we have no knowledge who the other is, we do not trust anyone, we provide help anonymously and if needs be then illegally as well, we act so that we can make the most money, there is only fairness when all are seen as equals and that is why so many are here. By working together a majority of our aims are achieved, and our lack of knowledge keeps us safe from the Aurors," spoke the silver robed man delivering his monolouge.

"What happens if an Auror penetrates this event?" asked the black robed man.

"Nothing, they can't tell who we are, the charms on the robes are infallible, permanent sticking charms can only be brought down by the caster."

"So you say, but Auror Potter is a known thorn in everyone's asses." The man in black said, Harry could figuratively smell the sneer on the man's face. Harry sneered inside his hood, as he continued watching the two in deep conversation.

"Potter is nothing more than a loyal attack dog, he hasn't got the intelligence to infiltrate this place. Even if he does he has explicit orders not to continue his investigations into the death of that man."

At the words of the silver robed man, Harry was troubled, this man whoever he was had knowledge of secret Auror conversations that occurred in the utmost secrecy.

"Yet he has extraordinary success..." before the black robed man could continue a booming voice began to speak.

"All those who wish to stake a claim in the tournament please enter the pit." Came the loud booming voice of the announcer.

Harry started walking backwards, he didn't wouldn't compete in the barbarous tournament. The death and suffering caused the drugged people used as life had disgusted him, yet he could not help but feel a morbid attraction to this perversion of magical dueling, hadn't he wished to let loose with the full range of curses? Yes a small voice in the back of the mind told him, yes it said without hesitation, with conviction. Harry couldn't argue with himself after all it was what he wanted in his heart of hearts. With a deliberate air he walked down the stairs and into the pit waiting to face the other competitors.

* * *

"Sir," a hooded man paused, "We've got word that Potter is on our trail."

From the shadows, a raspy voice asked, "How?"

"That leaky cauldron barkeeper sent Potter to the Bright Pig, a customer there had an invite," the henchman replied shaking in his boots. A single ray of light fell upon him, illuminating his figure in the shadows of the room.

"It can not be helped now, Was the Auror captain paid?" the raspy voice continued from the darkness, the annoyance in his voice would not have been missed by the henchman.

"Yes sir, Potter's acting on his own," the yes man replied nervously, "What shall we do sir?"

"It cannot be helped that Potter is involved, at least he has not drawn a link between the games and the murder."

"Sir," said the henchman with an audible gulp, "Potter discovered the fresh magical traces, the men were...the men were practising."

"Sectumsempra," the raspy voice whispered, from the left of the henchman, a violet beam appeared and hit him, a diagonal slash appearing across his chest. In the silhouette of the light, a face appeared, a grizzled beard, a smooth shaven head. One eye a milky white the other a light hazel, and a crooked mouth, not an emotion crossed his face as he watched the man die.

"Sir...please," the man blubbered coughing blood, as his chest and robes stained crimson, droplets and rivulets of the deepest red ran down his chest, over his hand.

"Send in another," said the boss. His tone no louder than before, yet at his command a pair of unseen double doors opened and in walked another nervous man, his face hooded as was custom, and yet the perspiration from his nerves could be clearly seen.

"Sir?" the new man asked.

"We will need to move against Potter, the Daily Prophet is to print certain truths about our saviour," ordered the Boss of this clearly criminal organisation.

"Sir why not kill his family or friends?" asked the minion carefully probing his boss's temper.

"I am no Voldemort, and neither am I a fool. I do not find comfort in murder, no sadistic pleasure from pain. I want and need only money, I will kill those who get in my way but I am the ultimate business man, the blood of the innocent will see us chased to the four corners of the Earth not the best way to make money. Would you say nay?"

"No sir," the minion replied hastily, hoping that the dulcet whisper that the boss had used would not lead to his death.

"Let me rephrase that," said the Boss looking upon the dead body, "I will kill anyone in a moments anger as well." A twinge amusement coloured his voice as he had spoken, a morbid amusement. As he watched the now extremely nervous henchman back away.

* * *

"You may now begin," rang the announcer's voice around the hidden stadium.

Harry circled with the other twenty men who were in the stadium with him. The cheering and the jeering of the crowd fell on deaf ears, he had long ago learned to ignore the noise of the crowd. He moved cautiously, his wand in hand and watched his competitors.

Every step deliberate, there that man, tripped, broken thoughts flew into Harry's head, his mouth responded, "Stupefy." A red beam emanated from his wand and struck the man. All hell broke loose.

From every wand on the field spells were fired. Cries of "Stupefy," and "Impedimenta," were heard, flashes of red and blue, lit up the pit.

With out thought Harry conjured the shield charm, and rolled, the shield protecting him from the magical attacks that came his way. Taking refuge behind one of the holding pens, Harry watched for a few seconds the unfolding confused melee that his opponents were involved in.

Flashes of light lit up the field as Harry took a breather, the shouts had become confused and spells of all different hues flew. In between he took in a few words of commentary, "Oh that was nasty, he's been hit with a bone breaker and a stomach curler – Ouch! That must of hurt."

Smiling grimly Harry returned to the fray, first step in Auror training he said to himself, "Large noises scare all, Sonorus Exploda." An explosion rocked the stands and the field, and Harry delighted in the confusion he had caused as his opponents searched wildly for the source of the noise, while other screamed, their ear drums had burst.

Laying into the crowd with gusto, Harry began firing, "Incendio," sending fire balls at the outer edges of the melee, squashing his opponents together. With that done he began firing stunning curses at the those in front of him. They fell quickly and started pinning those behind them in, and Harry began bringing them down.

He paused only to here the Announcer's words, "This man's figured out a way to end this, doesn't anyone have a response?"

As he listened he heard the crowd jeering at him, and yet the adrenalin kept pumping through him, his wand was raised again, a spell on his lips, "Reducto!"

A brown light erupted from his wand and approached the crowded groups of wizards and witches. As it impacted in the midst of the huddle, he heard a collective intake of breath by the crowd. They waited for the explosion. Nothing came, a collective exhale was heard.

"The random miss curse hits again," came the announcers voice. The huddle of opponents was still in shock.

Harry's lips repeated the spell, "Reducto!"

A tired voice called out, unheard, "Portego!"

An explosion rocked the group of Wizards and Witches, they were blown all over the place, their heads impacted with the side walls and audience protecting wards. Unconscious set in straight away except for one. One man stood up in the destroyed field his wand in hand his weak shield and the others had protected him from the worst of Harry's curse.

Like the prodigal son he rose from the surrounding dust wand in hand. From his lips a curse came forth, "Sectumsempra!"

Harry dodged, he had on his face a smile, never had he fought a worthy opponent, a duel to the deth Harry mused, and he could use every spell he knew. Harry returned fire, " Incendio!"

"Portego!" screamed the other man, blocking the intense flames that were approaching him, before continuing his wand movements to summon ice spears at Harry. Harry had however used the fireball curse to change location, and quickly fired of three stunners at the man. He and the audience were surprised when the man replied with the shield charm and succeeded in absorbing the three stunning curses.

Breathing heavily, Harry ducked the ice spears that had approached him and rolled away from a well placed liquefying curse. The fight had taken a decidedly nasty turn. Harry watched as the man fired of curse after curse, like a crazed man he fired and Harry ducked.

"Crucio!" shouted the other man, and the crowd was silenced as the fight was taken to another level. Harry had by that time already moved.

"Imperio!" Harry shouted. Finally getting his shot in after successive bursts of fire by his last standing opponent.

The man ducked and taunted Harry, "Best shot you got? MISSED!!"

Harry didn't reply as the man was hit by a stupefy curse from behind. With a smirk on his face that carried through his voice, he replied pointing at a man behind the other man, "Yes, but he didn't did he?"

_**The End of Chapter 2**_

* * *

AN:

Another Chapter.

Can I get a few reviews on what everyone thinks about this story. It would be very helpful.

The last part of this chapter was inspired by someone (can't remember who), who did something similar with the imperio curse. The game is just a slightly controlled duel that's found through out the Harry Potter books and the fanfic world.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3 ~ Rest, Reports and Reflections.**_

_**Disclaimer: Forgot last chapter, so here I reiterate, I don't own Harry Potter, and his universe.**_

_**The Daily Prophet **_

_**Harry Potter Senior Auror a Criminal?**_

_It has come to our attention at the Daily Prophet that our favourite son, Harry Potter, The Boy-_

_Who-Lived and the slayer of He-Who-must-not-be-named, has been involved in illegitimate _

_activities. We at the prophet hope that the ministry will act to remove Mr Potter from his publicly _

_important position until a full investigation is taken into his affairs. As a warning to our valuable _

_what is outlined below will shock you to your very core. _

_In the recently released documents under the new freedom of information acts, it has been found_

_that Mr Harry Potter has been involved in the murders of respectable members of society. Our_

_esteemed readers would remember Mr Lucius Malfoy, who was murdered by Mr Potter during a _

_routine inspection. The official reason attributed to the death was self preservation and no _

_investigation was carried out into the death of Mr Malfoy. It should also be noted that Mr Potter _

_and Mr Malfoy (Draco), were rivals of sorts during their school years at Hogwarts. _

_Under the same documents we stumbled across the case of Mr Theodore Nott. In the interests of his_

_family who was utterly decimated by the last Dark Rebellion we would like to reveal that he met his _

_end at the hands of Mr Potter. With one Cutting Curse, the "Sectum Sempra," a curse invented by_

_the now deceased Severus Snape, Harry Potter ended one of the last remaining Pure Blooded_

_Families (see page 8 for the remaining families.)._

_._

_._

_._

_These are all historical accounts of Mr Potter's unlawful acts. It has come to our notice, that Mr _

_Potter is involved in highly criminal activities. He was spotted, by a source who wished to remain _

_anonymous, at a shady Pub in Knockturn alley and was later seen entering Toroid Territory. The _

_Ministry who even today are crippled by the devastation caused by He-Who-Must-Not -Be-Named's_

_rise to power must be worried about Mr Potter. He may be an informant guilty of Treason_

_under the laws set down by the now defunct Scrimgouger Administration. We call upon the _

_ministry to take action against Mr Potter to save face with the Public._

"This is just ridiculous," said Hermione Weasley, throwing down the newspaper in her hand. She calmed herself down by running her hand through her bushy brown hair, "Is this why you called a meeting of the Departmental heads sir?"

"Yes Mrs Weasley," replied the Kingsley Shaklebolt with a sigh. "This article 's inflammatory and could be enough to shake our Government."

"I could ask Auror Potter to stand down for the duration of the stink that this article causes." Roger entered the conversation. He looked around at the other members of Kingsley's cabinet, Hermione Granger Head of Magical Creatures – Brethren as she called it. To her left sat Arthur Weasley, still the newly formed Misuse of Magic office. The came the various other smaller officials the yes men he considered to himself.

"No, we can't do that,' said Kingsley, "We need to present a united front to the media."

"Sir, even if we do, there seems to be a mole in the ministry." One of the Yes men put in. A rather forgettable man who ran the Goblin liaison office.

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur Weasley interjecting before Kingsley could speak. The red headed man had paid scant regard to the politics of the cabinet interior, yet he needed to know, his job could depend on it, he thought to himself.

"Minister?" Hermione queried.

"Go head." Kingsley nodded his head in association with his reply.

"As you all know, I've been tasked with discovering any Dark Sympathisers and bringing to justice any Dark Creatures that were involved in the last unsuccessful Dark Rebellion. With the help of the Magical Law Enforcement personal, we have been raiding known Dark Creature gathering points. However at every stop we have not captured a single creature, even though over seventy five percent of the Dark Creatures involved are still at large."

"So you believe that Harry's the mole in our department?" Roger asked quickly.

"No, As Harry is a good friend of mine, I am unable to form a well thought out conclusion." Hermione returned.

"Then who's your suspect?"

"We've brought in the Investigators from the Department of Mysteries," Hermione answered rather smugly.

"Sir?" Roger directed his question at the Minister for Magic.

"She has my authorisation Roger, Your fondness for your staff would have seen no convictions brought forward." The Minister replied to Roger's unspoken question. Watching the Head of Magical Law Enforcement's face turn towards a beetroot red, the minister continued rather kindly, "Roger your anger has no place at this table, Take yourself outside and get some fresh air. If you see Harry Potter tell him to report to me."

Barely suppressing his fury Roger replied, before walking out of the silenced and Privacy warded meeting room. His face resembled the darked red as he stewed in his own anger. He a tireless re-builder of the Auror Corps after You-Know-Who's decimation of the same force, was now untrusted to do the right thing when running his own department. With his fury rising to resentment, he returned to his office.

"Who does the report suggest?" asked the minister.

"Two people." Smiled an old black robbed man rather ruefully. "Roger Davies and or Harry Potter."

"Sir, I refuse to believe Harry's a traitor." Hermione spoke resolutely, out of turn, her tone brooked no argument. A tone many remembered from there time at Hogwarts with the Elf freedom campaigns this girl had once led.

"The reports are here," The old man continued ignoring Hermione's interjection. His voice was low and gravelly, ensuring that his his hidden strength was well noted and it was with that he placed two sealed folders into the hands of the minister.

Kingsley however responded, "Let us all hope this is a mistake." He prayed taking hold of the secret reports.

* * *

"Sister dear, How do our fine citizens do this fine morn?" asked a shady one eyed man to the blind women standing next to him.

"Brother, I do not know." The blind women offered the one eyed man a smile, "My eye-sight has failed, like yours will do one day. Yet I hear amusement in your voice and I cannot help but feel the joy in your step. Why, may I ask do you feel such happiness in this cruel world?"

"My plans are coming to fruition. You must of heard the allegations against our dear Mr Potter, the tournament you recently hosted would have hosted him. Did you not know who it is?"

The blind women thought back to the games. She remembered everyone who entered, everyone who competed in the games. She smiled ruefully as her blind eyes wondered over the foreground and background, unseeing, She could feel the soft yellows, here the bright reds that surrounded her. She touched and tasted the fear and hate in the air, the stale cigar smoke that permeated the air. In this room plans were laid, challenges issued and the entire criminal underworld shook with her brother's words. She was a part of it, protected by him, yet she could not help but feel the connection the bond of understanding that had sprung between her and a man, his alias John Smith, Harry Potter.

"I understand that a John Smith won, Harry Potter did not compete." She said somewhat bitterly.

Her brother grinned back, "Word Games sister? Do I hear anger and frustration in your voice?"

"You hear, what you hear." The reply came back, permeated by even more bitterness.

"Sister, Emily, I have asked you once, twice a hundred times. Join me, aid me and we can wreath destruction to our hearts content on this cruel world."

"No Jason, never. I will hate and stew in my own hate rather than join you. I have suffered at the hands of destiny a crueler fate than you. You stand there dead in one eye, I stand here blinded to the world of colour and sight. I am scorned on by this magical world, while you, you can hide in its shadows. It is not magic I hate, neither you nor any man. Who do I hate? My father and mother who brought me into this world with a magically incurable disability? Or is it this world I hate, where cousins are forced to marry, bringing into this world those disabled like me?"

The one eyed man, the cruel criminal boss, grabbed his sister in a tender hug, as tears flowed from her sightless eyes onto his shoulder. As they stood there they plotted against each other, against the world. Offspring of Knockturn alley's most feared criminal, they had called a temporary truce until the destruction of Voldemort at who's hand their cruel and unjust father had died. They would squabble and kill amongst themselves now since no threat existed. They would fight, until a threat arose, or the the other was dead.

The blind lady smiled through her heart felt tears, false now, she had to gamble, her brother or Harry Potter, the blind man stood, holding his sister, plotting Harry Potter's fall and the fall of his sister. The games would begin and he would have the opening shot.

It was in that dark and dusty room, that the boss's henchman found the brother and sister comforting each other with false promises and hope. In the shadows they had stood, for minutes, hours, days, no one could tell, for patience was theirs and theirs alone. The henchman cleared his throat before continuing, "Sir, The Prophet's reported your words."

The one eyed man smile, as he stood in the shadows grew into a ear splitting, grin, the henchman only saw his pearly white teeth a frightening sight as it seemed to promise pain and suffering. Emily his sister flinched in his arms. The cards had been laid, the game had begun.

* * *

"Dad, When do we go?" asked a small boy his voice expressing anticipation.

"Hold on James," replied Harry to the hyperactive child, "We're waiting for your Mum, Sister, Aunt Hermione and Rose."

"Come on Dad, lets go, Mum said they'd come by later and that we could go on without them." The boy turned his head to look at the sights of Diagon Alley. Harry was amused by his son's excitement. Even he had to take a look at Diagon Alley every time he entered it and smiled at James's rapidly rotating head.

"I don't remember saying that James," a voice from a red haired women cut in to Harry and James's conversation. She with three other females watched in amusement as both males turned to face them rather quickly, one with a clearly guilty look, and another with a smile on his normally grim face.

"How are you honey?" Harry asked as he kissed the red haired woman on the cheek as an affectionate gesture before he continued, "How are you Hermione? Where are the kids?" He directed the last question at both women in the newly joined group.

"We're fine, James comb your hair, comb charm." A cackling emanated from Ginny's wand and James now sported a comb over.

"Mum!" shouted James embarrassed. To the amusement of the rest of the group he ran his hands through his hair trying to regain the messy look that was his dad's trademark. With that they set off, to begin first year shopping. As Ginny played around with the children, Harry fell into easy conversation with Hermione.

"Where are the others Hermione?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. He smiled at her particularly nasty grin.

"They're with Ron." She replied. Her grin had widened to show more of her teeth. Harry laughed outright at her words.

"Hermione..." he choked out before laughing again, as his laughter subsided he continued, "Ron's going to die isn't he?"

Hermione didn't reply, and to Harry's amazement her grin shifted up a few more notches before she collapsed in fits of giggles. As they fell into a comfortable silence, they watched as Ginny fussed over buying the first year texts from Flourish and Blots.

"You know Harry," said Hermione in a serious voice, breaking the comfortable silence, "You've got to watch out more carefully."

"What do you mean Hermione?"

"The Prophet's out to get you, and your losing support in the cabinet pretty quickly. Watch your back even the Unspeakables have it out for you."

"Hermione?" Harry questioned hoping she'd reveal a few details.

"Sorry Harry cabinet discussions are secrecy bound, you know I can't speak about them." Hermione replied with a sigh. She smiled nervously at Harry's succinct nod and they went back to watching the kids and Ginny fuss about what books to buy. The comfortable tension had dissolved a nervous tension prevailed in the air between the Harry and Hermione.

* * *

"Don't you need me?" asked a hooded man to another hidden in the shadows.

"I need the strong. If you fight your way out you live to serve me again, if you do not," the man paused deliberately, "Consider this your punishment."

"What have I done to deserve this? Don't you need a mole in the ministry?" The hooded man asked fearfully. His voice cracking with his nervousness.

"You have failed to get Mr Potter suspended after he discovered our tournament." The shadow man replied, "I tire of this questioning."

"Please," begged the man. Catching sight of a silvery eye, the hooded man's breath caught in his throat.

"Begin."

At once the hooded man pulled out his wand and faced the doorway. On his lips were curse aplenty waiting to be unleashed. Yet he waited for his enemies to take the first shot. As he expected, the a Reducto curse was used to blow down the door. He waited for the first man to enter the room, his cherry and dragon heartstring wand humming with alien power.

"Stupefy!" He screamed as a man entered the room. He jumped to the side to avoid the multitude of spells hurled at him. "Reducto! Reducto! Reducto!"

The men outside jumped out of the door way, trying to avoid the blasting curses hurled their way. The hooded man shuddered with anticipation as his blasting curses struck the paster and brick walls, throwing up dust. He only hoped it wasn't a load bearing wall. In the chaos and confusion he caused with the exploded dust, he ran out of the room. His opposition who had gathered in a semicircular formation, were in disarray. Without stopping curses exploded from his mouth, "Stupefy! Incacerous! Stupefy!" Red lights exploded from the tip of his wand.

His enemies the smarter ones who had stood back in the initial blasts, shielded against his spells. They were more experienced as he saw the nasty grins that caught their faces. He paused for a second and was immediately attacked. Cries of Crucio could be heard and flashes of sickly brown and red flashed ominously from their wands, the rush of dark magic could be seen on their faces, the enjoyment and addictiveness.

Without thinking, he summoned one of his former victims in front of him. That man took five torture curses to his chest, enough to send any sane man insane. The robed man banished his human shield at his attackers, scattering their attacks and he ran quickly. Two could play at this game he thought to himself, as he fired back, "Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"

He doubted his killing curses could kill a fly, but their reputations were enough to scare the living daylights out of people, and he watched his opponents stumble in their chase. He was on the home stretch, anticipating random bursts of light he dodged this way and that, avoiding stray dark curses that targeted him.

His luck had run out as he reached the door, his ears picked up a faint cry, "Sectum Sempra."

Closing his eyes he felt the stinging pain of the dark cutting curse strike his shoulder. He twisted his other hand to cover his injured shoulder and pushed the door open, running out into the fresh air. His robes were a mess, scratched and ripped, blood blossoming from his shoulder he could not help but feel that he was on the wrong side.

"Bravo, Bravo," a one eyed man clapped each strike made the hooded man wince in pain, his thoughts interrupted, he bowed in a mocking gesture, sending the other man into bellyfuls of laughter.

* * *

Harry and Ginny walked together as Hermione took her turn amusing the children with them. After all the Apothecary was a rather depressing place for most Hogwarts's students who had studied under Professor Snape. The depressing potion's master had made potions a chore that not even Hermione could stand it any more than necessary.

They enjoyed each others company, yet Harry had a prickling feeling he was being watched, he knew something, someone was after him, after all seventeen years of being hunted...by various foes, gave him a sixth sense or was that magic he thought to himself, before getting back to the situation at hand.

"Mr John Smith?"

Harry turned quickly to face a blind women, the receptionist he had talked to at the illegal and vile tournament. Ginny opened her mouth to speak, with a shake of his head and a mouthed 'later' he sent his wife of to take their children and Hermione elsewhere. Reminding himself to tell Ginny what was going on he replied to the women, "Yes, May I help you?"

"Where you busy? Hogwarts shopping I presume Mr Smith, or should I say Mr Potter," said the lady quietly alerting him to the fact that she knew who he was.

"Walk with miss," Harry paused he did not know her name.

"Emily." The lady supplied.

"Walk with me then Emily. Not as blind as your eyes suggest, I take it?"

"I am blind, but my other four senses work just fine, after all I did hear the dulcet tones of our most famous celebrity Harry Potter and his wife the former chaser for the Holyhead Harpies did I not?" She asked with more than a hint of bitterness clouding her voice.

"So its as easy as adding two and two then?" Harry asked with a laugh, his voice unconsciously shifting to match the much refined and more verbose tones of the lady beside him.

"If you wish to phrase it that way, then yes."

"You wish to discuss something with me?" Harry asked after containing his laughter. He was nervous this lady had worked as part of an illegal organisation, she could if she wanted black mail him. He waited to hear out the lady's plans with him.

"Yes of course, I am happy to discuss some urgent matters. You wish to begin?"

"Why did you seek me out?" asked Harry getting to the heart of the mater straight away.

"A simple business transaction." A mask of indifference clouded the woman's face. After all business was a serious affair.

"How?" asked Harry quietly as he stared at his surroundings. The shoping precinct of Diagon Alley had been left behind them as they approached the less well kept areas. The wizards and witches who had subconsciously avoided the blind lady now stared openly at Harry. After all how could some one of his stature be seen associating with the disabled. He slowed down to consider this notion that permeated the world.

Emily turned and faced Harry, bringing to a halt their brisk walk, a humourless smile graced her face, her clouded eyes wandering aimlessly. She had after all sensed his questioning glance."Have you seen anyone in the Wizarding World blinded before? Crippled, Disabled."

"Is that why they treat you with caution and hostility?" asked Harry quietly. He remembered Moody, and the insulting title, Mad Eye, he remembered the unfitting title of hag given to the scum of humanity down in their luck due to some chance of birth. He stopped his thoughts to ask. "Can't you get it fixed?"

She kept smiling bitterly at him, the pain and anger in her voice would have scared many a men. Harry stood stockyly facing Emily waiting for her scathing reply. He didn't expect the resignation and the pain in her voice. "Do you know Harry the results of magical in breeding Harry. Imagine a disease that strikes on your 21st Birthday, in the prime of your life, Imagine that Harry Potter, this is my disease, the hate of magic, I can't see, there exists no magical cure Harry Potter."

She paused her face resetting to stone waiting until she caught her angered breath. "I am sorry, but our proposition is this, _muffilato_," Harry jumped has her wand sprung into hand from a hidden pocket in her robes, "You will stumble across the ring leaders of the tournament in the next round..."

* * *

"Harry Potter will be present at the next tournament." A insidious and cruel voice whispered from the shadows. The one eyed man who sat there smirked as a sharp thrill went up his back. He enjoyed the power that it gave him.

"What will you have us do sir?" A well dressed lady asked his superior. Her bald head shone clearly in the darkness. The single light source in the room an unholy red glanced across her, the hellish nature of the light showed a demon-esque figure in front of her. She smiled in anticipation, the cooling touch of the crucio perhaps, nothing like those of her former master's. A pale imatation she craved for herself, to once again feel the sweet delicious pain.

"Take him out, My dear sister has agreed to our request. She meets with him today."

"How sir, death is after all a difficult proposition. We can give him an accident, a warning, a punishment..." The lady grinned with hate, the talk of bloody killing excited her.

"Quiet Buffoon! I know what you are capable of." The boss seethed with rage, this was one of his best duelers and consequently one he could hardly punish. "I will overlook this insubordination, but it will not be forgotten."

"Yes sir," replied the lady with a crazed insincerity that would not have fooled a child. The boss chose not to correct the woman's behaviour.

"I want him punished, strike when you have an opportunity, the miss curse will not touch your wand."

With a nod of her head the woman turned and walked out of the room. Her bald head represented her vow, taken at the fall of the Dark Lord. She had not believed in the purity of blood, nor had she supported a change in the political order. She had wanted murder and torture, for she was a sadistic woman. One which deserved no sympathy yet he had escaped the victors by the skin of her teeth, she had survived this new world. Yet she still held stock in her vow. She had one name known only to her, no ideals, pain was her plaything, hate was her lover. She would kill Harry Potter the one who brought down the Dark Lord. Bellatrix was going hunting.

* * *

"Are we agreed then?" asked Emily her voice riddled with anticipation.

"Agreed," Harry replied with deliberation. He smiled at her and walked back to his family, his smile dropping of his face as he considered his days actions. He had gambled an important part of his life, he hoped he would get dividends.

Emily watched Harry go, and waited until his footsteps faded into the background of the general din of the shopping thrum of the street, before shifting back into the crowd, sighing as the wizards and witches surrounding her avoided her as though repulsed by a shield. She deliberated her plan, it hinged on Harry, her plans were set, the endgame was beginning.

* * *

**A/N:**

Another Chapter done. Can I have a few reviews please. I hope you've enjoyed it.

Thanks to all the people who've read my story. The story's set up to end in two chapters get ready to watch as the pace picks up even more.


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